Like An Adult

I was reading this post over givers and receivers dynamics - about the mindsets at play, and was suddenly hit by an avalanche of memories.

The year was 2005. Married for less than a fortnight, had just moved to an apartment in Karachi. The block had a total 8 apartments. Second day at the new place, a child from the neighbours living on the floor just below ours, came to deliver a tabbaruk - dates and zamzam brought from Umrah.

In the evening when the partner was back from work, I prepared for a FIRST ... :)

We went to offer our gratitude and congratulate the family. The 23yo me found it akin to a moon odyssey :). First unsupervised, independent social interaction in an ammis kinda setting, as a married adult!

It was huge.

The gentleman of the house welcomed us. The lady joined a little later and was visibly unappreciative of what she saw. Her daughter, older to me, was an MBA like my partner and our host didn't waste a moment in sharing her opinion over the academic influence on martial compatibility.

"MBA tou MBA kay saath hi acha lagta hai," she commented after learning that I was an engineer.

I learnt, to my utter surprise, that my provincial domicile could be my most significant introduction in the largest city of Pakistan. Having grown up travelling through all the four provinces, it felt strange to be linked to and identified by only one.

"Shadi parents ki marzi say kum hi karti hain wesay Punjab ki larkiaan. Lakh chuppaein jo ghar say bhaagtay hain unkay huliay say bhi pata chalta hai."

She had said looking at my plain baby pink chiffon shalwar qameez. I uneasily adjusted my multicoloured dupatta and moved my hand to draw her attention to the only gold piece I was wearing, a bracelet.

I was discarded. I could see that. :)

This was block 4. She informed me of two other Punjabans in the complex, one in block 6 and the other in 1, whom I could go and make friends with.

"Un main say bhi aik bhaag kay aee thi Lahore say hi. "

You get the idea!

I itched to tell her the count of guests at my shadi which had happened only a few days before, and show her the pictures of my mother kissing my maatha, my father bidding me farewell.

But I stayed put and listened.

Like an adult, I told myself.

Phir, as soon as I got a chance during the domicile autopsy she was mercilessly performing, I congratulated her for the Umrah.

It was only her husband who had performed it, she told. He performed it every year, she informed. And saying that her eyes welled up. "Allah jaanay mera bulawa kab ata hai Uskay ghar haazri ka," she sobbed.

I didn't know what was the right thing to say at such a time. There was pride in the husband's achievement, but there was a sense of loss for her own self and I didn't know how to take away the significance of the loss without belittling the value of the husband's achievement. So I stayed quiet. Sitting next to her, I held her hands in mine and caressed.

I could be wrong, but I felt that she probably didn't like her having put a weaker self on show in front of me

So with a change of expression she concluded that this delay in her haazri must be because she still has the responsibility of marrying off her daughter. I agreed.

We left after a little while.

I called my mother that night, ecstatic. I was on cloud number 9.

I had been a perfect adult.

I had been like her.

She listened to the story and unlike how I knew her, she grew angrier by each moment.

"How dare she!" Amman was breathing fire.

"Tum sunti rahi? At least you could've told her that you've performed hajj. Na deti koi shut up call, at least should have embarrassed her at having constantly belittled you."

Oh Amman ... I groaned. How could she not see that this was the entire point!

The lady was unhappy. She was trying to project that unhappiness on me, drawing joy out of insulting me.

I let her have that joy, without feeling the insult.

Like I had witnessed my mother doing.

Like an adult.